Alice's Beginning
by Alyss-Intrada
Summary: She started out as a normal girl, content enough with her life...until the visions started. It all seemed to crash from there. Or is there hope yet on the horizon? .:. The story of Alice's roots, and how she ended up the way she is in Twilight. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1: Wrong

**___Alice's Beginning_**

**_Chapter 1 – Wrong_**

_**1914**_

"Mary, come on! We're going to be late for school, again!" Tia's nasally childish voice broke into my mind, her tugging on my arm wrenching me from my dream. I slowly opened up my eyes, rubbing them with my fists to get out the residue in my eyes. I sat up, slowly, shaking my head to try to clear it. _They were all going to die_.

Tia, of course, was already dressed, attempting to do it herself – her braids askew and her buttons mixed up, making her dress run crooked down her back. I sighed, and threw the covers aside. It was going to be a long day. "Come here Cynthia…"

"Miss Brandon! Are you with us?" Ms. Baker's sharp voice sliced through my musings.

"Yes ma'am!" I sat up straighter, trying to look attentive. Some of the older kids at the back of the class sniggered. Now I was in for it…

"Miss Brandon," Ms. Baker said smoothly, walking towards me with ruler in hand. I shuddered to look at it – I had heard far too many stories about children who had fallen on the ill side of a teacher. "Could you please tell me why it is that you seem to think that you are above helping us solve these math problems?"

"Um," I scrambled to come up with an excuse, but failed miserably, "no, Ms. Baker I can't."

"I will see you after school then." And she walked up to the board, and continued the lesson. I picked up my chalk and slate, and began to work out the problems. I could hear the older students muttering amongst themselves, and wondered why they didn't get in trouble. _Doesn't matter, let them have their fun now before they lose their chance._

And so the rest of the school day dragged by. When Ms. Baker announced that class was dismissed, I stayed in my seat, my head down, fearing what she had to say. She didn't speak, at first. She swept the floor, put the chalk and brushes into one drawer, her books into another. She closed the windows before turning towards me.

"Mary, what is it that you have done wrong?"

"I wasn't paying attention to the lesson."

"And why were you not paying attention to the lesson?"

My lips tightened at this. I didn't want to tell anybody about the sights. I knew nobody would understand. Nobody else knew these things. And I was pathetic at lying, so there was no point in coming up with an excuse.

"Mary, you have to pay more attention in class! I'm sure daydreaming is much more enjoyable, but we all have to do things that we don't want to do – no exceptions. You should act more like your age – a respectable thirteen-year-old girl must act so – _respectably_. Society expects as much from you."

"Yes ma'am."

"I'll only warn you this one time, Mary, and then I'll have to talk to your parents about it."

"Yes ma'am."

She looked at me, probably wondering if she needed to delve into a bigger lecture. Thankfully deciding not to, she nodded and stated firmly, "Very well. I expect it won't happen again. You may go home now."

"Yes ma'am."

Cynthia, was, of course, waiting right outside the door, trying to listen in to see how much trouble I had gotten into, no doubt.

"Well? How bad was it? Did you get hit?" She glance at my hands, looking for the welts from Ms. Baker's ruler.

I sighed impatiently. "No, Tia, she just told me not to do it again."

She frowned at this, obviously quite displeased. I scowled at this. "Come on, let's go home," I grumbled, grabbing her hand, and pulling her in the direction of our house.

I could tell we had guests as soon as I walked up our short laneway. The curtains in the parlour were open – something Mother only did when we had visitors. Otherwise, they stayed closed – she feared the sunlight would fade the room, as was the case in the rest of our house. Tia noticed too.

She leaned over to grab my hand. Even though I was three years her senior, Cynthia was almost taller than me – something she revelled in quite gleefully at times. "I wonder who it is?" she whispered fervently.

"Well we'll soon find out, won't we?" I said in a normal tone. Her mood instantly disappeared.

"You're no fun at these things, you know that?"

I smiled slightly. "It's what siblings are best at." And I opened the front door. Minny, our housekeeper, was standing in the hallway, waiting for us.

"Take off your shoes and go change quickly into your Sunday best," she told us in a hushed voice, "The minister and his wife are visiting."

Cynthia and I complied, pulling off our shoes and running quickly and quietly up the stairs. Tia was done in an instant, her school clothes thrown aside on the floor. She didn't even glance in the mirror as she impatiently watched me change my clothes.

"Come on! Hurry up!"

"Fix your hair – it's a mess." She undid her hair, brushed it quickly, then hastily pulled it back into the two braids. I had only just finished doing up the buttons down my back. Grabbing the brush from her, I carefully un-plaited my hair, slowly untangling it, and putting it back in the same style it was always – one braid.

Tia was tapping her foot on the floor. "Let's go! Let's go!" I walked over to the small mirror on our dresser, making sure everything was in place.

"Alright. Let's go." And together, we walked down the stairs.

Minny was waiting by the parlour door. She looked us over from head to toe, frowning slightly at Cynthia, but nodding her head anyways. She knocked on the parlour door, and opened it for us. We walked in.

Reverend Smith was old – about this. Despite this, though, his sermons had a lively, youthful flair to them, and kept everyone listening raptly to his every word. His wife was more quiet, careful and cautious – she led the Sunday school in a gentle manner, the only admonishments she gave were cautious ones. She was adored by all the children – she usually had treats for all of us. They sat amiably on the couch facing the window.

Minny forgot to mention that our neighbour, Mrs. Cooper, was also visiting. She was sitting on a chair taken from the dining room (even though there were still several other sitting places available in the parlour) with a severely straight back, and smiled, tight-lipped and falsely, at our arrival.

"Why, young Mary and Cynthia have come to join us! How lovely, girls, we were just talking about you. Please do sit down." Even when not in her own house, she was giving orders.

Cynthia and I sat beside Mother, who was sitting on the sofa facing the minister and his wife. Everyone was silent for a moment, before Mrs. Cooper spoke up.

"So will Cynthia be singing at the Easter Service in two weeks?"

Mother smiled, "We hope so."

Mrs. Smith smiled too. "Of course she will be. It wouldn't be the same without her sweet voice to sing our Lord's praises on that glorious morning…"

My attention drifted. It was always Tia getting the attention – I probably wouldn't be noticed. My eyes began to wander around the room, staring at the paintings that I had looked at so often during conversations like these. Small paintings of country houses, farms, forests. Hardly worth much attention, just there as background decoration… One picture I particularly liked – one of a castle in Europe somewhere, standing nobly by a small lake.

_Not long before it's all gone._ I pushed the voice to the back of my head, as usual, ignoring it's nagging. It had become worse, of late, pulling harder and harder to come up to my full attention, and doing so more often.

This time, it refused to stay down.

The parlour vanished around me. Instead, my world was filled with a vast, muddy plain. The sky was dark, threatening to rain, as if it hadn't quite rained enough yet. The ground was filled with deep ditches and huge holes, filled to the brim with rainwater. It was silent.

There were men in the ditches, all looking identical with their blackened, grim faces and filthy uniforms, waist-deep in the water. And they were waiting.

The silence was only broken when the air filled when several high-pitched whistling noises rang through the air. Suddenly, the world flashed white.

I was back in the parlour. Screaming.

_They're all going to die. It's all over for them. Boys who thought they had it all, their future destroyed in one instant._ The voice was whispering non-stop in my head, repeating those words, over and over again. I didn't notice Mother shaking me by the shoulders, telling me to stop it, immediately. I didn't notice Rev. Smith and Mrs. Cooper looking at me fearfully from their seats. I didn't notice Mrs. Smith telling Minny to get my father, quickly.

The world was on fire. Men were being slaughtered by toxic gases that shredded them from their lungs out. Destroyed men, their bodies mutated and twisted by bombs and gunfire. Paralyzed men stuck in muddy holes being eaten alive by rats, feeling the pain, but not being able to move to stop them…

"No, no, no, no, no…" I was moaning, over and over again, my legs curled up to my chest. I was shaking, feeling nauseous from the images that flashed through my mind.

My mother stepped back from me, unsure of what to do. "Mary Alice Brandon, you will stop this now!" she shrieked at me, her eyes going wide in her franticness. I glanced up at her, but could not see her face as it was, only seeing the agony it would twist into when she heard that her brother was missing in action.

"No! No, no, no, no, no…" I could not look at her – I turned my head down towards the floor. There, I saw a rat grin at me from the parlour floor, it's fat body wobbling as it climbed up onto the sofa, scurrying into my lap. It opened its mouth wide at me, its teeth dripping with thick, dark blood. Its mouth was full of blackened flesh – it was finding it hard to swallow it all. It coughed it up into my lap.

I couldn't help it. I vomited. And everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2: Caught

**_Chapter 2 – Caught_**

It seemed like only seconds later that my eyelids flew back. I was in my bed. I looked around – the curtains were closed, with some light peeking around them. Daytime, still. I couldn't have been out for that long…

And then my stomach growled, with a pain that bit through my abdomen. When was the last time I had eaten? I was pretty sure I had eaten my lunch…my stomach growled again. I definitely had to get up. I swung my legs over the edge of the bed, and tried to stand up. My legs wobbled for a moment, and then I collapsed. _What was that?_ Why did I collapse? I tried to stand up again, grabbing the bedpost for support. My knees shook a bit as I cautiously let go, but I managed to stand firmly.

What was going on?

I walked down the stairs, slowly, trying to make sure I didn't fall down. The house was quiet. Nobody in the parlour, nobody in the dining room, nobody outside that I could see from the windows. Were they all in their rooms? I went back up the stairs, quicker this time as I had gained better balance and footing. No one in the bedrooms either – and the beds were all made neatly. I looked at the clock in my parent's room – it was 11:30. (A.m. I assumed – far too light to be p.m. of course.) Apparently I'd been unconscious for the night.

I decided to go down to the kitchen – the pain in my stomach was becoming unbearable, and I wanted to see if Minny was home.

The kitchen was empty too.

The pull for something to eat was greater than my curiosity as to why the entire house was empty, so I started rummaging through the cupboards, and settled for a tin of soda-crackers. I had finished half the tin and was pouring myself a glass of water, when I heard the front door shut, and the sound of people coming from the front room. They were home!

Quickly tidying up the small mess that I had made, I went down the hallway to see what was up.

"Yes, Doctor Milner, she's right upstairs." I stopped quickly in my tracks. Doctor? I wasn't sick…

But apparently I was supposed to be in bed…oops! I floundered around in my mind trying to come up with a solution. I could walk up to them and announce – "Here I am!" – but that was certainly going to get strange looks. And I was in my nightdress – certainly unsuitable. I could run away – but that was a bit too extreme, and also guaranteed to turn out bad. Perhaps going back to the kitchen would be best. It would be either Minny or Tia that found me, which would certainly work in my favour. Perhaps they would tell me why a Doctor had been called for me, before I had to face the ordeal.

I poured myself another glass of water, still rather thirsty from the crackers, and sat down. And I waited.

The problem with waiting is that one's mind tends to wander quite a bit. Sometimes the way it wanders is quite pleasant, and fills up the waiting time quite nicely. Unfortunately, this time it tapped into something that I would rather not reopen in such a short time.

_The assassin's mind was set. In two more months, they would all be free from the tight grip they were held in. It would have to be the Archduke – he was the leader in the public eye, a celebrity amongst those vile creatures. _

_But he did not know it was that single bullet would tip the fragile scales that held the world in balance. The war would start, and_

_They would all die._

It was the screams that brought everyone running.

The doctor was first, the one that I didn't recognize, with my mother close behind him. My father came as quickly as his cane would let him.

I had fallen off the chair, my glass of water shattered on the floor.

Doctor Milner moved towards me, his shoes crunching over the glass shards, and kneeled next to me. "Are you okay, Mary?"

I could not speak, and only stared at him. _He was going to lose his young wife – all because he had to go off to war as a doctor…she would leave him for another when he didn't return home…_

He raised his voice, "Mary, please speak to me. Are you okay?" I closed my eyes, trying to will away the image I had of his suffering when he realized…_He, who had lived through saving lives, and harshly losing just as many…he that had worked countless, sleepless days so that the men could continue on…_

"No, no, no, no…" I moaned. It was so horrible!

I was only slightly aware that I was being carried back up to my room. I was dropped gently onto my bed. I opened my eyes slightly. My parents, Cynthia and Minny were waiting outside the room, the doctor walking towards them.

"So?" my mother said quietly, "Is she going to be alright?"

Doctor Milner looked pointedly at Tia. Mother shooed her away. Tia's back was turned from me, but I knew that she wouldn't fail to give Mother a heavy scowl before complying. She quickly went downstairs. The doctor waited a moment before speaking.

"Not for the moment, no," he said, in an equally quiet tone, "There's no fever, and no other symptoms, from what I've seen, other than the screaming and moaning. My best guess would be that she's hallucinating. What has she had to eat in the past few days?"

"Nothing that she hasn't had before," Minny replied.

"Hmmm…has she acted like this in the past?"

"Not quite," mother replied, "She hasn't screamed before. But there are moments where she seems to lose herself – she just stares off into the distance and won't respond to anybody."

"And she talks a lot in her sleep too," added Minny, "and usually something pessimistic like 'you're not going to make it' or 'that won't work'."

I talked in my sleep?

"Okay. Hmmm…yes, she's probably gradually losing sanity – with time, the hallucinations will probably only get worse. She's also a danger to others – the hallucinations have been proven to be catching."

My mother looked astonished. I couldn't think – I was contagious? What were they going to do?

My father asked the question for me. "What can we do about it?"

"There is no permanent-recovery treatment yet. But there is an institute relatively nearby that works to assist cases to recover slightly from this malady. There are some treatments that they are hoping to test out to check their effectiveness."

"What kind of treatments?" Father was sounding anxious.

"I don't know. It's not really my area of medicine – I am more capable of diagnosing diseases and the like. Mental health is left to more adept doctors – university professors and the like."

"Is there any other options?" Mother asked.

"No. If she is left within the confines of this house, she will quickly become a danger to the rest of you. It's best to get her off to the institute as quickly as possible."

"How much do we have to pay for it?" Of course Mother would be worried about that.

"I do not believe there is a fee. It is purely in place for the well being of those less fortunate, and in the same position as dear Mary." He gestured towards me. I didn't like the way he said it – his words seemed to be coated sickly sweet as he said that sentence. Something wasn't right. Suddenly, I felt like I was in danger.

My mother nodded. "Very well. We'll do what's best for her. Where does she need to go?"

"The Canterbury Asylum is in Greensdale. Fortunately, I'm going to Greensdale tomorrow – I need to pick up some specific medicines for a few patients around town that won't last very long in the post, so I can take her to the institute while I'm there. She'll need to be packed and ready by 6 am sharp."

"Yes. She'll be ready then." The voices were dimming as they moved down the hallways and stairs. Soon, I heard the door click shut.

My mind was tumbling. They were sending me away. Away to an uncertainty that even our own doctor didn't know about. Away from everything that I had known and loved my entire life – and without even time to say goodbye to anything! Tears started streaming down my face…

_You'll be hidden from the horrors_, at least. But this was hardly a comfort – I did not even know that the horrors were actually going to happen. And if they did, I _wanted_ to be here to comfort those who were hurt, to face it all with them.

A creak on the landing froze my thoughts like a cornered hare. Who was it?

"Alice?" It was my father. He was the only one who ever called me by my middle name. He said he didn't like Mary – it meant sorrow, he had said, and I was one of the greatest joys that was ever brought to him. Alice was much better – the Germanic derision meant "noble sort," and the Hebrew _Aliza_ meant "happy". I opened my closed eyes to see him standing at the end of my bed. His face looked rather drawn, looking as if he had just had a very heavy argument.

"Yes, Father?" I whispered, not wanting my voice to betray my tears.

"How much did you hear?" His voice had dropped to a whisper too.

"All of it." A mix of emotions crossed his face. Relief, at not having to tell me. Anguish at the fixed reality of it.

He moved around to sit on the edge of the bed. "I don't know if I can send you away like that, Alice. There's no guarantee that I'll see you again…" he trailed off, tears choking through the words.

"Father…I don't want to go…"

"Alice, I don't think there's anything wrong with you. You've always been my angel, my sweet little child. But in such a short time, you've managed to convince your mother, the town doctor, and I'm sure the whole town now too, thanks to Mrs. Cooper. You have to go…but it _will_ be fine."

"I…I'm scared." This came out in the slightest of a whisper – to admit that seemed shameful.

"So am I. But they're professors, right? They know what they're doing. We have to trust them…"

"Yes, Father."

He leaned over to kiss my forehead. "It'll be alright, little one," he whispered in my ear, seeming to reassure himself as much as me, "You just have to promise me to come back."

I swallowed hard, choking back tears. "Yes, Father."

He leaned back, tears glistening in his own eyes. Nodding sharply once, he stood up, and left the room.

It was a long time before I fell asleep.

* * *

_**Ahaha I'll figure this whole thing out eventually - I applaud all of you authors that have managed to master the fanfiction uploading process. I'm pretty sure I'm technologically handicapped - anathemas! (Look that one up!) **_

_**So, to the few of you that have read this, I need to know what you think. This story is entirely unedited, except by yours truly. I need comments! Try to make it somewhat helpful if you're going to be critical - I couldn't say no to some friendly advice. Should I continue this tale, or stop it dead right now? (Gosh, I always thought it rather annoying when I saw authors on here begging for comments, and now look at me! Bah...)**_

_**Thank you dearly!**_

_**Intrada**_


	3. Chapter 3: Fear

**_Chapter 3 – Fear_**

I woke up before the sun had risen. The light outside my window was grey – just before dawn. I went to my window. Of all the rooms in the house, this one had the best view. The sun was slowly creeping over the horizon – each small portion of the sun that appeared meant that my departure was closer, and closer. I tried my best to ignore this fact, easily becoming enraptured by the brilliant pinks, purples, and golds that tinted the undersides of the clouds.

I sighed. This was probably the last time I would see this from here. What would the sunset look like from the asylum? Could it be as wonderful as it was here? No. Nothing was the same as home. It reminded the time I had to stay over at my aunt's while Mother was giving birth to Tia. I cried for home so many times – I thought that Mother and Father had abandoned me for this new baby that everybody was always talking about. I didn't want to leave the only place I had ever known. I had felt like I was being replaced, being sent away…

And now it was actually happening.

I watched the sun rise completely over the horizon, until a knock at my door startled my from my reverie.

"Yes?" I called.

"The doctor will be here soon – you need to pack some clothes quickly." My mother's voice was cold and distant – like I had already left the family.

"Yes, Mother," I murmured quietly, but I heard her already walking down the steps. I put on my regular school dress, and threw my Sunday dress, some hair ribbons, a small blanket that I had had since childhood, and some under garments into a potato sack. I took one look around my room one last time, flashbacks of childhood games running through my mind as I opened the door, and bounded down the stairs. I was trying to show more optimism than I felt.

Only Father was waiting by the door with the doctor for me. I turned around. Mother was standing there, with a cold, empty gaze, tightly gripping onto my sister's shoulder with two hands. Cynthia looked like she was on the verge of tears, but trying her best to hold back her tears. I turned back towards the door.

Father smiled sadly at me as he stepped forward to hug me. "Take care, little one. Remember your promise," he whispered in my ear, squeezing me tightly. "Good luck on your adventure." And he stepped back to lay a soothing hand on my mother's shoulder. She flinched slightly, but kept her steely gaze firmly above my head. The sight almost sent me completely into tears – I was pretty sure she had decided to disinherit me entirely. I swallowed as I faced the doctor and stepped forward.

He smiled eerily as he took my bag and slung it over his shoulder. He opened the door. "Ladies first."

I stepped out towards the awaiting transportation. It was a old, splintered wagon attached to a rather old-looking horse. I waited for him to help me into the back of it, but he just swung up, threw my bag into the wagon behind him, grabbed the reins, and stared off into the distance, obviously waiting for me to get in. Sighing, I scrambled into the back of it, using the wheel as a step ladder. My feet had barely reached the hay-strewn floor of the wagon, when the doctor snapped the reins and jerked the horse into motion. Stumbling slightly, I moved to the very back of the wagon, leaning against it. We were off.

The ride was very quiet. As we passed through town, nobody noticed us, walking with their heads down in their usual morning sleepiness. I did not call out to any of them, even though I saw a few familiar faces; I had no way of explaining what I was doing in the back of Dr. Milner's wagon – or at least I did not feel like explaining that I was insane. Once we left the town, all that stretched before us was a gravel road and an endless sea of fields, with a few trees dotting them occasionally.

The rest of the ride passed slowly. The fields melded together, the occasional farmhouses all seeming alike. I began to turn to my inner thoughts. _What was this asylum like? Could I ever call it home?_ I knew the answer to that one. No. It never would be home – never could be. I held back a sigh. I didn't want Doctor Milner to look back at me. I did not like the idea of talking to him – it was him, after all, that had made the decision to take me away.

I was not as angry as I thought I would have been, though. I felt ready for the change – I knew that staying home was not an option. After Mrs. Cooper told the rest of the town about me, which she would without question, that I would be the laughing-stock of the entire town. The asylum gave me a new chance. What that chance was, I was not sure of at the moment. But it was a new one.

It was about 3 hours later that we came upon another town. I could tell from the outside that this one was a much larger one than our own. Dr. Milner looked back at me, an unreadable expression on his face. Perhaps gauging my reaction? I tried my best to keep a cool indifferent look on my face. It wasn't easy as we entered – the buildings were much bigger than our own, and I wanted to explore each one of them.

The doctor stopped the horse outside of one of the shops that read _Amerson and Co.'s Apothecary_. He looked at me sharply as he said, "I'll be back in a moment. Do _not_ go anywhere." He hopped off the wagon, looked back at me cautiously, and entered the store.

I could easily see Dr. Milner in the store. He walked up to a counter near the front window of the store, and talked to an old man standing there. I looked away to the street scene around me. The town had more people filling the streets, with a few of those new automobiles spewing out smokey fumes in the streets and chasing the walkers to the safer sidewalks. The people here were far better dressed than those in my own town. A man with blond hair jogged closely by the wagon, rushing quickly past. I felt a strange sense of familiarity as I watched him hurry down the street, but it disappeared as soon as he rounded a corner down to an alley.

A shrill voice broke into my musings, breaking over the rumblings of the automobiles and the clip-clopping of the horses. "Mary? Mary Brandon? Is that you?" I looked down the street. My Aunt Elisabeth was looking directly at me, still quite a ways down the street. I sighed. If anybody, of course it would be her that I met in Greensdale. She was far from my favourite aunt, her high, nasally voice (not unlike Tia's voice) always giving me a headache after listening to it for too long.

And if she found out about me, my family would hear no end of it from her.

Fortunately (and how ironic that it would be fortunate) Dr. Milner came out at that moment. He didn't look very happy either, and brusquely hopped up to the front of the cart, grabbed the reins, and snapped the horse forward.

My aunt's voice faded into the background, still calling my name. It stopped instantly once we turned down a smaller, quieter street.

The silence brought on an assault of butterflies to my stomach. The lack of distraction in the noise recovered my nervousness about coming to the asylum. I brought my knees up to my chest, and looked down at the floorboards of the wagon, my head – and thoughts – spinning. I stayed like that until the wagon jerked to a stop.

I looked up. We were on a gravelly path in what looked like a park. A large, white building loomed. I instantly shuddered. It seemed so sterile, so clean, so…_unnatural_.

Dr. Milner gave me a leering smile as he stopped the horses in front of the doorways. "Welcome to your new home, Mary."

* * *

**_Thanks to the four that commented for the last chapter - Tiara, Writewithlove, Changed, and Kachara lol :D To answer your question, Changed, Cynthia is Alice's sister. It's Cynthia's daughter, Alice's niece, that's still alive and living in Biloxi (I don't know where that is...). I had to check that too before I wrote it lol._**

**_So, how is this chapter? Fail? Win? Tell me please! I have a few more chapters already written after this one, but I'm not going to upload them unless I get more comments! I know there's a good bunch of you that have read this, so hopefully I'm not asking for too much! Thanks!_**

_**I'm looking forward to watching Eclipse! How about you guys?**_

**_Intrada :)_**


	4. Chapter 4: Intimidation

**_Chapter 4 – Intimidation_**

_**John Brandon**_

As soon as Alice was taken away, my wife, Clarice, started her crusade to eliminate the memory of her eldest daughter. Alice's part in her shared bedroom with Cynthia was completely emptied, all of the contents burned. It only took her until the late afternoon to complete her mission. Cynthia and I could only sit in the kitchen, dumbstruck.

Clarice walked into the kitchen at 3:42 pm.

"Mary is dead."

My heart felt like it had stopped beating. Cynthia's jaw dropped. "But she isn't dead. She just went to—"

"Cynthia Elizabeth Brandon, you will speak when spoken to. Mary is dead to us. She will not return. We will be having a funeral two days from now."

I did not say anything. I could not. Once Clarice started, once she got an idea into her head, she could not stop, and it would not disappear. She was probably right – it was probably for the best… but how could it be? Alice was gone, of course, but did she not still have the chance of coming back?

I shook my head, and slumped to the table. I was trapped, like a poor deer caught by hunters at the base of a cliff… Folding my hands, I did the only thing I felt like I could.

I prayed.


	5. Chapter 5: Curiosity

**_Chapter 5 – Curiosity_**

_**Aristides**_

They ask me how I could stand each moment. How I could pass each hour, day, month, year, decade – even century – without losing my mind.

And I tell them – those ones so young, so inexperienced – it is simple. Even if I have lost near every quality that disguises me in the world, I have retained at least one – one shred of slight humanity. Curiosity.

A wise woman recently said: "The cure for boredom is curiosity… There is no cure for curiosity." I am far from bored. This world, this planet, is constantly in change – and I, a part of it. I have travelled to the farthest places – from the deep, black chasm of the Mariana Trench, to the high, white peak of Mount Everest… and on many occasions. And the cultures – the places! – in between have continued to astound me. In constant change, with me, unchanging, watching it in awe.

I have spoken every tongue, I have seen every piece of art, I know every equation, I have heard every song… and yet I still have not experienced it all. Each time I think I have finished, something new appears… and so I start again.

I am 18.

I was born into Greek aristocracy. I was taught in Plato's own Academy. I was a good enough student, with much curiosity to make up for my lack of intelligence. My mother would often scorn me as a child when I asked too many questions. _Why is the sun round? Why do the flowers close at night? Why do the water rise and fall? What makes wind? Why do some people have a lot of money, and others so little? Why do the slaves not speak to us? How long until dinner's ready? What…_

The night I was turned (is it not odd that these things so often take place at night? The night – it provides a strong disguise for evil-doers – a security, a refuge, of sorts), I was returning from a party that my uncle had thrown for the coming-of-age of my cousin. I had needed to leave early – my mentor had set a test for the following day, and I needed to prepare (do not ask me the subject – I forgot it many, many moons ago). I had just reached the villa gate, when I suddenly walked into a statue…and I thought to myself – _now is that not strange – when did we get that?_

I heard her mumble something harsh, but I understood it completely. _Time for revenge. _And then there was only a harsh pain. I will not describe it further – there are no words that would do it justice – except to say that it seemed an eternity before I awoke from the agony that was my entire existence.

I learned later that it was one of our old Gaul slaves that found me, screaming and writhing in pain, soon after. She could feel my heart racing, my blood cooling, my eyes turning shades darker, and she knew. As a child, she had heard stories, ones that told of strange pale creatures that ruled over nights such as that one. Why she helped me, I am still not entirely sure.

She took me into a small cabin, deep in the woods, muffling my screams with rags stuffed into my mouth and restraining my thrashes by tying me with thick cords to chains on the floor.

After four days, it stopped, as quickly as it had begun. I stepped out my restraints like they were merely thin silk strands… and then I heard it. A fast, squelching noise, a throbbing, juicy sound. And it brought an anguish to my throat – a dry, scratching pain as if someone had thrust a torch down my throat. I looked to the source.

She was sitting in a corner, breathing quickly, hyperventilating. I wanted to lunge at her, tear her throat out – instinct told me it would douse the agony.

But curiosity won out.

"Who are you?"

"Alyssa," she said. Her voice had the soothing calm of an elderly person, despite the way it shook with fear.

"Who am _I_?"

"My master, Aristides."

Not quite what I wanted. "Hm. _What_ am I, is perhaps the better question."

"A night devourer, master." She spoke the term in her native tongue, and yet I could understand. ("Night devourer" being a very loose translation. It sounded much more vivid in her language.)

"What am I to do?"

"Destroy. Drink the blood of human."

"You do not seem to mind that much."

"I cannot intervene with the gods' punishment. Perhaps they will grant me a swift death. I have lived a good life to this point."

There was a gleam in her eye – one of hope – despite the fact her voice still quivered. Suddenly, I could not do it. I could not kill this woman in cold blood, merely for the sake of relieving my pain.

And so I ran.

It was the same everywhere I went – I would get close to devouring a human, to satiating my thirst, but I was hit by curiosity, and ended up creating conversation with them instead. It would always turn to pity and guilt, and another time for me to starve.

Soon night and day became one concept. I lost all sense of being – I just stayed in one spot, under a tree in the middle of a dense Balkan forest. You could almost say I became depressed. Time passed so very slowly.

I had no way of measuring time – my mind had lost all sense of devices – so I did not know exactly when they found me. All I knew was that I was immensely glad they did.

Immediately I could tell they were of my same species. The absence of heartbeat, the smoothness of their movement, the sweet scent, the bell sound of their laughter. Yes, they were laughing. A woman and a man.

But they stopped as soon as they heard my sharp intake of breath as I used my senses. Freezing instantly, they slowly approached me.

"Sir? Are you well?" The woman asked me in Greek.

Taking in another ragged breath – my throat and mouth were completely dry – I tried to speak. "I do not know." It came out slowly, torn to shreds.

"Cleo," the man spoke to the woman, taking her hand, and tugging slightly, "we should leave him. He looks as if he has gone savage – he could attack us." He was giving me a wary look. Any other time I was sure he would face me. But he loved her, and did not want to put her in danger.

"Nonsense, Marcus. I think we should help him. If he were to attack, he would have to go through both of us." I saw Marcus flinch at that, a look of pain crossing his face. My theory was correct. Cleo did not see it, however, her back turned to him as she got closer to me, kneeling in front of me. "He looks as if he has been horribly weakened." She examined me closely with dark, ruby eyes and gasped. "His eyes are grey! Come here, Marcus, look at this – they look like smoke!" Marcus moved quickly to look at me.

"When was the last time you drank…?"

"Aristides."

"Aristides. When was the last time you drank?"

"Never." My voice was still a rasp. He frowned.

"Open your mouth." I complied. He pushed my tongue down. "It is completely dry… you have never drunk blood, ever?"

"Yes."

"How long ago were you created?"

"I do not know. It was not long after Galaxia."

Cleo gasped. "That was over seven months ago!"

Perhaps it was the realization of the length of time I had been in that one spot, but I suddenly felt very tired. I closed my eyes.

"We can take you to a nearby town. You _must_ feed." My eyes snapped open as Marcus said that.

"No!" I stood up quickly, but had to sit back down. "I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"I cannot destroy somebody who has a chance at a good life. It would destroy _me_!"

Cleo smiled sadly. "But it is the only way you can survive."

I shook my head. "No it isn't. I have lived like this thus far… I only need to train myself to continue."

Marcus stood up, his forehead creasing with his frown. "Impossible! It goes against who we are, what we stand for. You would be an abomination, a reject. You would have no place."

Cleo shot a disapproving look at Marcus, before smiling at me. "I do not agree, Marcus. He has got a determined air about him – this could work. I wish you luck, Aristides."

If I were human, I would have blinked and missed their departure. As it was, I sat stone still and watched as they whisked away.

I had not realized that my goal was to live entirely without any sustenance until I had said it to Marcus and Cleo. But now that I had, a plan started to form in my head. It was obvious that I wasn't about to die without drinking blood. It was just a matter of overcoming this horrible weakness that came with the abstinence. I grimaced as the favourite phrase of my previous sister came to mind – _Practise makes perfect_. My mind was going thru many complaints, until once again my curious side kicked in. I was probably the first and only one of my kind to try this.

I stood up, my legs shaking, but this time, I held my stance. _So far so good_. I tried a few small movements – moving fingers and toes, flexing my muscles a bit. It felt good to stretch after being still so long.

Not sure whether or not I would have the strength that my kind seemed to normally have, I reached up slowly and grabbed a low-hanging limb, and pulled down with my weight. The limb groaned, and after a moment or so, it fell, taking me with it.

I was grinning ear-to-ear as I pushed the branch carelessly off of me. Surely no human could do _that_. Standing up, I started walking thru the trees. My feet hit the ground lightly, the steps coming easily to me. Laughing, I began to pick up the pace, going from a walk… to a jog… to a sprint… THUD!

I shook my head, and slowed down, looking behind me. A large oak tree was now lying on the ground. I had run into it… but how?

I knew the answer to that before I even asked the question. My senses had been weakened. Sighing, I started at a slow walk again, but I could not complain. If this was the only price I had to pay for starving myself, then so be it. At least it gave me a calmer state of mind knowing that less people and their families were suffering because of my disgusting state.

And so I continued forward.

By now you may be wondering why I am telling you this. Why my beginning is of any importance.

Because my beginning was my undoing. My gift was my curse.

And that, my friends, is very important.

* * *

**_Sooo...my apologies for not updating sooner. Life's been chaos these past few months, and fanfics were the last thing on my mind. Good and bad. Anyhoo, I decided to upload two chapters...well, maybe one and a half, seeing as chapter 4 was really short. Sorry 'bout that. Hopefully I haven't lost all of my readers - I wouldn't blame you guys if you just decided to kick me to the curb, and leave me there *wince*. But I try._**

_**I'm testing a few different POV's for the next few chapters. Hopefully it's alright. This is where I start to stray from the beaten path. Idk. You guys tell me what you think :)**_

_**Disclaimer: Twilight and all it's wonderful characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is just my opinion on what happened to Alice. I am making no monetary profit on it, nor do I intend to. Ms. Meyer rocks. End of story.**_


	6. Chapter 6: Discovery

**_Chapter 6 – Discovery_**

The years seemed to pass slowly. In saying that, it passed all too quickly, the world changing just as so. Countries and cultures joined and unified, broke and fought. I was always saddened when my world collapsed and dissipated and became forgotten, but at the same time it thrilled me to see humanity develop. Oh, they suffered for their sins on many occasions, but they always got back on their feet, often at the last second, to take on the world once more.

I never grew bored. A changing world – it was wonderful.

The beginning of my end was the day I decided to work as a janitor. To the world, I was still eighteen – I hardly looked like I could take on a higher level of occupation. Nor did I really push for better jobs. I could accidentally let something slip, knowing my tendencies. Usually I stayed away from any conversations and socializing with people… and even with my own kind. I did not mind being a loner – I could see the world changing well enough from where I stood. I knew that if I interfered at all, it would not be good.

And so, I was a janitor.

The place I was at was an asylum just south of the Canadian border. I had been to institutions before, but this was different. Technology had allowed them to use shock therapy to their patients. Or, at least, they had hoped it would.

It would not. All the same, I held my place.

I was one of two janitors for this huge institution. The other was an old man who did not say a word and did his job as quickly as was possible. He turned ill during the first autumn that I was working there.

"Don't worry," the manager told me with a smile that made even my stomach churn, "the patients don't make much of a mess, really. You can take the week off too – go enjoy yourself for a bit." He winked at me.

I left that conversation with disgust. How could he leave this place in such disarray? They might not have made much mess, but they were humans all the same. I felt the need to work harder – I could stay the entire day and night… These people needed a humane environment, at the very least. How could they be expected to get any better anyways? Nobody would notice…

I started with my normal side of the building, making sure I thoroughly cleaned everything. As usual. I even repainted the walls and scrubbed the floors, go painstakingly slow – my weakened reflexes making me cautious. Despite this, I was efficient, organized. Thousands of years had taught me that much.

It only took me my usual shift to clean everything. I checked out, like I normally would, and went to the other man's side of the building… and closer to my doom.

The first door was 943a. As I moved down the hallway, cleaning it, I noticed a strange pressure on my mind. There was a scent in the air, a soothing, gentle smell. It made me feel calm and peaceful... it was a nostalgic scent – one that reminded me of my favourite dishes as a youth, and the scents of all my favourite hiding spots – it brought back memories that I had not remembered for many many centuries.

I found myself moving towards the door, an unreal force moving me towards that door – 943a. And, as I got closer, the scent began to overwhelm all of my other senses as well. My sight turned a calming shade of blue, like that of a beautiful summer sky. The only sound I could hear was a humming sound - it was not annoying – it just… existed. My mouth filled with bitter venom… that which I had not tasted since I was first changed. It was like somebody had given me some strange drug.

I unlocked and opened the door.

What I saw inside nearly knocked me out of my reverie. As it was, my world turned red.

She was lying on the floor – she could not have lain anywhere else. The room was small, and so was she.

With the huge world around, I felt the need to protect her small self. I moved over to her and folded her carefully into my lap, cradling her like a small infant.

She was small – lack of nourishment, I was sure. Her hair was black, like burnt wood. It was cropped short, hacked off by unskilled hands and a blunt knife. Her features were tiny, delicate, her lips parted slightly with a ragged breathing.

She moaned softly as her eyes parted.

"Miss?" I knew I could not expect an answer from her, but I asked all the same, needing to do _something_, "Are you alright?"

But she just stared at me with pale, empty eyes. I felt a stinging sensation behind my own eyes – I would have cried if I could.

Reluctantly, I left the room, shutting the door behind me. But I had a mission in mind. The moon was high in the sky as I ran towards the town. I went towards the town. I went to the hotel praying that they did not have a full house. Entering the back door, silently, I went to the laundry room. It was empty, except for a lone woman scrubbing some fabric at a wash basin. Her back was to me.

She had stringy brown hair, and pale skin, sweaty from working in the laundry room all day. But it wasn't her appearance that caught my attention. It was the sound of a second, faster heartbeat coming from her. She was pregnant.

I walked over to the wall that was lined with shelves of blankets and pillows, grabbing armfuls of them. I heard a gasp behind me.

"What are you doing, sir?"

"Helping out a friend," I replied, turning to face her.

She would have been a beauty, had she had a decent cleaning and rest. She gave me a scorning look.

"I'm sorry sir, but we are not in the business to 'help _friends_'," she said, her voice laced with a venom.

"I know that," I replied with equal frigidity, "but I was wondering if I could enquire, not to this institution as a whole, but to you yourself and your hospitality."

"Why?" she asked, pulling a weary hand up to her face.

"Because there is an innocent child, stuck in a position that even an adult would have difficulty with. Stuck in a cold, empty room – nowhere to go, not a thing to do, not a person to turn to. A frozen, empty shell she has become, but I hope to save her yet."

The woman's eyes had widened. "I—"

"Think of your child, and what you would want to do for them."

Her brow furrowed at that. "I am not pregnant. I have no children." I looked to her stomach. Indeed, there was no visible bulge, but the second heartbeat was there still. I looked back to her eyes – this time I could see the hint of fear there.

"It is not easy to tell, believe me. You could say I'm a bit of an expert. You shouldn't be working so hard – it could cause a miscarriage."

"My husband—"

"Should be making sure you are well taken care of."

She sighed. "Very well. Take what you need. Only that, though!" She turned back around and continued washing clothes.

I took a large pillow and two blankets and left, murmuring a small "thank-you" as I went.

I went to the kitchens to grab some food for her; these I found dark and empty. Unsurprisingly – it was late night – I did not know how the woman in the linen room was still awake doing all of that hard work.

I fled into the night, carrying the necessities for the girl… the girl, the girl… I needed a better name for her. She was small, thin, delicate… peaceful, almost angelic. A million ideas of what to call her ran through my mind, but nothing seemed quite right. Looked like I would have to do some digging for her real name. They had to keep some records, right? I'd reached the asylum by this point. I had no trouble finding her room again, and entered without hesitation.

Her scent hit me, once again, like a brick wall.

She had not moved even slightly. Her feet, her hands, her head, her hair, her entire body had not shifted at all from where I had left her. I would have thought her dead if not for the constant breath moving in and out of her slightly-parted mouth.

I wrapped her up in one of the blankets. She felt cold to touch – cold for a human – the cement room provided minimum heat. I placed the pillow on my lap, and gathered her up on the pillow, using one arm to support her, and the other to reach for the food.

Feeding her was difficult at best. Her chewing was slow and weak – I often had to tear things up into much smaller pieces in order to fit them in her mouth. I lost track of time…I lost track of many things as I tried not to focus on the venom pooling in my mouth and what my instinct was telling me to do about that. It was probably a few hours later that I got the last crumb of bread in her mouth. I had thought it impossible, but I could feel a slight happiness with what I had done.

The girl sighed softly after she swallowed the last little bit – she was tired. I took the other blanket and bunched it up on the floor, making a small bed. I placed her on it, and began to hum an old tune I had heard in my travels. It was not long before her breathing changed, ever so slightly, into a slower, more careful breath of sleep.

I closed the door quietly on my way out, and locked it.

* * *

_**Sooo...yeah...I'm not so great with the regular updating thing. Not that it really matters, I don't think there's many people reading this anyways...or is there? Please review - I need to know what you guys think! They also have a mystical power that makes me type faster :D So just hit that little button there, you know the one, and tell me what you think!**_

_**Is the whole Aristides thing alright? Or is it just too weird? I have about one more chapter with him before switching to Alice. We'll see... And what about that woman there? Should I put her in the story more? Should she be who I think she should be? ;)**_

_**Review and I'll forever love you! :D**_


	7. Chapter 7: A Beginning And An End

**_Chapter 7 – A Beginning and An End_**

It continued that way for the next few weeks – me doing my job by day, and tending to the girl at night. I did not run into the woman many times after the one incident, and the times I did, she barely acknowledged me. I could hardly blame her – as her belly grew, so did the tired, anxious look on her face. Of course, I did not always take from the hotel. Sometimes it was a grocer, or even a house, that I took food from.

Gradually, the girl began to gain a healthier appearance. Her cheeks gained some colour, and her breathing became stronger. She still did not move or speak, but I felt we were making great progress nonetheless.

I learned her name was Mary Alice. I called her Alice – it was similar to the name of that woman who had helped me so long ago… She was put into the asylum in 1914 – right before the Great War broke out. That made her nineteen right now. Yet so small, and so fragile…

Everything was going alright. Then I began to hear what the people were saying. Men – good, strong men – were going missing. Vanishing, without a trace. The town was panicking, and began pointing fingers at innocent people.

That was when I met the other vampire.

I had just finished feeding Alice. Often after this, I had to take a walk around the town to clear my mind… her scent still caused a heady cloud to overcome my senses, and the cold night air helped.

I was just about to turn a corner when a muffled cry, followed by a whisper, stopped me in my tracks.

"Come, come now, it'll be over in a second – there's no need for struggle."

_Snap._

By this point I had moved towards the scene – I had an idea of what I might see, but I was not entirely prepared for it.

_The blood…_

There he was, a man – no, not a man, a monster – of fluid movements and frozen heart, draining a helpless being of its life. I did not move, nor make an perceivable sound – I had stopped breathing – but the vampire still looked up.

"Ah. And who do we have here? I don't share, but I'll tell you, there are easy pickings in the bar down the road there."

I gasped – "You're taking them from _inside_ the town now?"

He laughed. "Well, I take them from wherever I can easily find them. Hmmm." He sniffed the air. "You smell like one of them, but there's no trace of blood… What _are_ you?"

"Obviously not the same sort that you are. You who tries so hard to tear apart lives."

He smiled widely. "Ah, but you know you want to drink the blood. Smell it. It's so sweet, so delicious, so refreshing…" He had his head tilted slightly to the side, gauging my reaction.

"No. You could not even pretend to understand me. It is not blood that I desire. It's knowledge. Please, I ask you, leave this town. You have done enough damage. It is time you move on." I war worries. Worried that he might decide to try the "easy pickings" at the asylum…

He gave me a strange look that I could not interpret – almost as if he was trying to read my mind. After what seemed like an eternity of seconds, he nodded.

"Fine. I will leave. The blood running in this town is a bit to bitter for my liking anyways." He turned swiftly, and was gone within a fraction of a hummingbird's heartbeat.

Feeling satisfied, I turned around to return to the asylum. Morning would be soon, and so would my shift. (The other janitor had yet to return.)

It seemed that with each step, I realized more and more that something was wrong. It had been far too easy – he had given up far too quickly… my senses were suddenly piqued, my mind tumbling over questions. What was he planning? I started running. Instinct told me I had to return to Alice, keep her safe. I was afraid – what if I was too late?

The asylum was filled with a stale, still silence that I broke when I threw open the doors. I didn't stop running as I ran down Alice's hallway to her room. I will not pretend I was surprised when I heard his voice call out, "You can run, old man, but you cannot hide. She will be mine."

_No_. It was the only thought going through my mind as I slammed the heavy door of Alice's room shut behind me. She was still sleeping peaceably, and did not even flinch at my loud entry. I locked the door. I was panicking – I did not know how I could stop this vampire from killing Alice.

I could not take her anywhere – her fragile state of health stopped that. And this menace would probably hunt us down anyways. Why did he want her so badly?

_Her smell…_

It filled my senses as my mind strayed to it. There came a pounding noise on the door… he was trying to enter. As venom filled my mouth, an idea came to mind. It was obvious, and seemingly inevitable. I was repulsed by it, though – I did not want her to have to go thru the agony that I had, I did not want her to be without choice.

The doorknob snapped off. I did not think – I only acted.

I bit Alice.

The blood pooled into my mouth immediately. I barely managed to register Alice's whimpers, or the door being pushed in as instinct drove me. _Drink_, it hissed at me, _Drink and enjoy…_ The vampire had been right. It was so sweet, and I could feel a new energy coursing through me. _Blood…_

But as I felt Alice's body go slack, there was a faint voice in the back of my head – _No. No, this is not right. You are trying to save her._

I stopped. My instinct gave an immediate roar of disapproval – _More, _it cried, _More!_ I shook my head, trying to rid myself of those thoughts. It was Alice's sharp cry that finally snapped me out of it.

I needed to get her out of here. I picked her writhing form up, holding her carefully so she wouldn't injure herself. I turned to face the door.

I had forgotten about the other vampire.

To see a vampire in shock is a remarkable thing. They stand there, absolutely frozen, like a statue – not the slightest movement. This one was glaring at me, his hands clenched into tight fists.

"You've changed her." It was not a question. It was a statement, made in a barely audible whisper.

"Yes," I said, moving around him quickly. I exited the building through the back door. Avoiding meeting the manager opening the front.

I entered the forest behind the asylum. I did not stop running until I reached a clearing. I set Alice down. She had not stopped twisting and thrashing since we left the building. Her face was twisted in pain. I felt…guilty. I had caved into my desires – it was not fair to her.

But I did not want her to die.

"You should have left her to me. You should not have taken her. I would have been merciful, and killed her swiftly. Look at the pain she's in now." As if to confirm his point, Alice let out a piercing scream, a stronger than any other sound I had ever heard her make.

But he was lying on the other point. He would not have killed her quickly. The hungry look in his eyes said that Alice would have suffered as he delighted in the taste of her blood…

I looked to Alice as she cried out again. _What have I…_

Before I could finish that thought, though, I was slammed to the ground. "You might've taken her from me, but I can still have you, old man," he hissed in my ear.

I felt no pain as he tore me apart.

_Goodbye, Alice._

_**Alice**_

The first thing I noticed was the lightness. It was as if somebody had lifted a thick blanket off of me, or unburied me from a deep swamp.

The second thing I noticed was the gorgeous fair-haired man standing in front of me. No, not a man… something so much more – so much better…

He smiled, but I barely noticed for looking at his eyes. They were a dark red, almost black. Frightening.

He turned his head just then, looking towards a group of people – six of them – sitting around a table. It was as he turned away that I noticed the markings on his neck…and his arms…and his face…and, well, on every part of his skin that I could see. It was as if somebody had painted his body with glowing crescent moons…bite marks?

He held out his hand to me, motioning that we should join the group of people. I smiled back at him, and reached out to take his hand – he may have looked scary, but it felt so right…

But as soon as I was about to touch him, everything stopped.

And I opened my eyes.

* * *

**_Back to Alice now. _**

**_Jeepers, I hate it when authors take soooo long to update...and know I'm one of them lol. Terrible, isn't it? Please comment...if I know there's people out there wanting me to write this, then maybe I'll update faster! But so far...*sigh* Thank you to those of you that have commented._**

**_Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, no how much I wish I did. All characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. This is just my perspective on what happens to one of those characters. _**

**_Intrada, signing off._**


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